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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25584523">they can't steal the love you're born to find</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribelledelcuore/pseuds/ribelledelcuore'>ribelledelcuore</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TharnType the Series (TV), เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst, ChampNo are a ship too!, Doctor Type, Drummer Tharn, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Ph.D Tharn, Please love ChampNo, Prompt Fic, Switching, Time Travel, Will add tags as I go</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:15:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,462</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25584523</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ribelledelcuore/pseuds/ribelledelcuore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>PromptFic<br/>Having lost all hope in a homophobic society, drunk Tharn wishes on the stars a glimpse of his future and then opens his eyes in bed with his very naked archenemy persuading him to take sick leave and seducing him for a passionate round of love-making.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Champ/Techno (Love By Chance), Tharn Thara Kirigun/Type Thiwat Phawattakun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>they can't steal the love you're born to find</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'll decide on a title soon, once I see this shaping up nicely. For now I have too many plans for this, all vying for attention in my mind. I want to explore this universe as much as I can. Thank you, Seher, for the prompt. I changed things a bit I hope you don't mind, I wuv you :')</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>His hand slides over a firmness overlain by smooth skin and he strokes it, nuzzling closer and smelling the musk that somehow says possession to him. Like the owner of the skin is supposed to be his, quite naturally. Skin…wait, who’s skin is he stroking? In a bed of all places!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tharn opens his eyes to pink plump lips, and finds a ridiculously attractive face accompanying it, forelock falling into the eyes staring back at him, and he somehow feels like he wants to devour the plumpness and his subconscious tells him he has a habit of gazing at them, the eyes that look at Tharn's, riddled with a hint of mischief and something tender, and recognition finally hits him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ai’Type! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alai wa</span>
  </em>
  <span>?!" He croaks out, realising he probably has been drooling on the shoulder and chest of this fucking Type all night, and he suddenly can’t decide if that embarrasses him to death or creeps him out that Type would put up with it. No, he must have purposely done this to fuck with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"Ai’Type!"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tries to push him away only to realise the room looks different, every piece of furniture is different, somehow much more mature and classy, like he picked it out and he isn’t a college student anymore, why does it feel like he’ll find at least a couple of grey hairs when he combs his hair this morning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Realisation dawns in his eyes and he finds Type looking at him with an endearing grin, one that makes him melt into a puddle of goo and it baffles him that that would be his reaction, and he wrinkles his forehead and scrunches up his mouth, when Type moves close to peck him on the lips, and his heart nearly catapults inside, bad breath be damned. He sees Type smirk at him, confusedly, “You’re being weird this morning, Boo.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tharn has to admit he feels blissful, but he would prefer to just go right back to sleep and wake up alright, because there is no way this isn't a dream, and does he want to entertain his subconscious and let it tantalise him with what he could never have in his life? Because Type is one of the homophobes in his world full of them, a place where love is limited by the rigid casts of gender and general opinion decides who you could be with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Honestly, gender is a really unnecessary concept by now, but it isn't just up to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks back at Type and watches him watch him, taking in the features up close and finding him even more beautiful than what he’d seen in their arguments where Type would storm up to him and grab his collar, so often it's hilarious and he's this close to picking up Type in his arms any day, and watch him splutter; his reaction would be so cute. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And why is he admitting that about his archenemy to himself right now? Fuck, he can’t be having these thoughts, this is a no-go, he cannot afford to foster feelings. I thought we had an agreement, he speaks to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Type pushes Tharn's hair off his forehead and says, “Ai’Tharn, it’s time to wake up, let’s make breakfast. I’m starving, especially since we exercised so much last night”, he blushes and looks up at him like he wants more but breakfast first is a good idea right now. Tharn’s eyes bulge out and he raises his eyebrows, wait what? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Eh, asshole, why do you keep behaving like you were drunk, I’m pretty sure we had sober sex, even though it was mind-blowing enough that calling it sober could be debatable. Honestly, I don’t know how we still enjoy it so much, because you’d think after seven years, we would become quite blasé about it, I guess I should be thankful for my Boo’s sexual prowess”, he snickers and gives him another kiss, this time to the nose, and starts to get up, his chest now clearly visible to him, tinted with lovely rosiness and Tharn feels so warm, so warm about it all, like the love here is an actual substance flowing through his blood even though he just woke up to this dream and hasn't really been Type’s all this time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lies still and keeps thinking all these thoughts, will the dream be over if he moves? He decides to explore this reality of sorts a bit more and holds Type’s hand before he can get off the bed. “Ai’Type…” Type raises an eyebrow at him with a smile, and fuck if this doesn’t look cute, because he has never seen Type’s eyebrow rise like that except in contempt or anger. He thinks of any way he could make this situation clearer, but no question seems reasonable to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"P'Boo, are you okay?" He gently strokes Tharn's forehead and pushes strands of hair aside, referring to him as </span>
  <em>
    <span>phi</span>
  </em>
  <span> as if he knows that Tharn would like it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tharn pushes himself up on his arms and asks, “Can you hand me my phone, please?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Type looks at him funnily and says, "It’s right next to you, fucker," and walks off in the general direction of what Tharn presumes is the kitchen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tharn heaves a sigh of relief and prays he has set Face or Fingerprint ID on his phone, because he needs to see what day and year this is, if this is all even real. His phone unlocks as soon as he looks at it, and he balks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then he tries to read a--what should be--exceptionally difficult research paper from his browsing history and finds really complicated jargon that somehow his undergraduate brain should not be able to comprehend but it does and he balks some more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s definitely not something he could conjure up during a dream. Nobody’s dreams are that clear and imaginative. Although, yes, he could say that he's been lusting after Type for ages, with his vivid imagination to aid him, and it was unsettling to think that he and Type have had sex just a few hours ago but he hasn't experienced it, and he’s gone from masturbating in the shower and his sleep, about that mouth and hot bod to fucking him in bed and his brain suddenly reminds him he does remember last night because of course it happened to this body and whoa— he stops short because too much naked beautiful Type moaning underneath him and on top of him all at once and. He is awestruck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, he’s sometimes entertained the possibility of one day waking up to find that his whole life has been just a dream and he's in an empty school after hours, still a kid; but he doesn't remember asking for a fast forward! Did he? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Type calls out for him to do something and he can’t keep sitting there for long he knows, so he decides to pad after him, gazing at how content he is with the new…old? place. He comes to a halt at the kitchen door because there he is, shirtless Type in an apron, swaying to the music belted out by the morning radio…they still have it? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come see if this looks good </span>
  <em>
    <span>na,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I don’t want to screw up breakfast. It’d be a pain to make something again”, he pouts adorably and woah that look he’s never seen on the erstwhile forever grumpy type from the past. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He moves and suddenly Type is too close to him, nearly touching his lower body to Tharn’s and Tharn’s face and ears and everything feels like he’s burning and he accepts the spoon offered catatonically, and Type licks his lips while looking at him, like he’s urging him to do the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tharn finds it actually tastes good and smiles bashfully, “Thank you, Type, and don’t worry." He steps back and pushes a thumbs up sign at him, finding a stool to gather his bearings on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"My shift at the hospital just got cancelled for today, boo, someone else really needed the slot and I’ll later be doing theirs instead. It’s going to be a pain with night shifts in a row but I swear I’ll make it up to you," he grins and waggles his brows, "You don’t have your gig until evening. So can we spend the morning cuddling and watching something?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Type twists on his waist to smile even wider at Tharn, quite unnecessarily because clearly Tharn has always been weak for Type, in this world or any. Tharn prays so hard that this isn't just a dream, because he doesn't think he could ever un-see or un-become now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finally allows his face to relax into a smile for Type. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
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<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>To be continued. </p><p> <br/>(Edit: WIP. I am working on the plot and everything these days, sorry for the delay. This will probably be co-authored and we're workshopping currently hahahh)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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